


Prize Fighter

by buckminsterbarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, boxing au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckminsterbarnes/pseuds/buckminsterbarnes
Summary: Finding refuge in a sleepy little town, Dr. Castiel Novak thought that he had finally finished running. He had settled into a cozy little routine, he had acquaintances, a roof over his head. Everything was bland, and that was fine with him. He had enough excitement for one lifetime.But, when the famous boxer, "The Michael Sword" waltzed into town, his whole world was flipped on its head.His gut told him that there was something not quite right about the man, but the more strings he untangled, the deeper into the mess he fell.Set in the late 1960's, early 1970's. Rated M for language and violence. The tags will be updated with the story.
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Benny Lafitte, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Black coffee. Stacks of paperwork. The faint smell of cleaner. 

This was the life of Dr. Castiel Novak. In and out of the hospital, the most exciting part of his personal life was whether he was going to choose a beef or chicken TV dinner that night. 

That is, until the day that unrest took over the hospital.

The day that _he_ arrived.

Despite the growing crowd and murmurs in front of his office, Castiel continued to sip on his slightly stale coffee and shuffled through his paperwork. He shook his head. Something had the orderlies and nurses all shook up, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He was done for the weekend in 20 minutes. And God, was it going to be a much needed break.

He had just finished with the last of his paperwork when Hael burst through the door, panting, with a grin from ear to ear.

“Dr. Novak!” She exclaimed and invited herself inside. “You’ll never guess who they just brought in!”

“Unless it’s an early weekend for me, I don’t find this to be riveting news.” Castiel said bluntly, not even looking up at the intruder.

“No! It’s—” She was cut off by the sharp crackle of the intercom coming to life. 

“Dr. Novak, please report to the Operating Theater. Dr. Novak to the Operating Theater. Thank you.” The intercom fizzled out and Castiel’s confused glance met Hael’s sparkling eyes. He pushed past her and hurried to the Operating Theater, not stopping to stare at the gaping expressions of the eager orderlies. 

This was _not_ the way his weekend was supposed to go.

“What have we got?” Castiel burst through the doors of the operating theater, pulling his gloves on in a fury.

“Male. Late 20s. Multiple lacerations, large puncture wound on the abdomen. Likely broken ribs, swelling on face and probable concussion.” A nurse rattled off the list as Castiel threw on his mask and got a closer look at the patient in question.

And god, did he look awful. Castiel sighed. It was going to be a long night.

****

“So?” Hael appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the exhausted Castiel’s office, seconds after he collapsed into his desk chair. 

“So?” Castiel repeated half-heartedly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to work up the energy to collect his belongings and leave the building _finally_.

“So you met him! Was he every bit as gorgeous as they make him out to be on the television?” Hael asked, starry eyed. 

Castiel’s brow twisted in confusion and he finally met her eyes. “What?”

“You know, you operated on _the_ Michael Sword!” She beamed and invited herself to take a seat in front of the doctor’s desk. “You know, the famous boxer? He’s all the rage these days, and _oh_ so handsome!” She melted a bit as she spoke and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Right. I don’t own a television.” He scuffed and started pushing his papers into neat piles.

“Of course you don’t,” Hael huffed slightly. “Because you’re old.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Castiel sighed as he wearily pushed himself up from his desk. 

“I bet his eyes just shine,” She cooed, standing up with the doctor. 

“Wouldn’t know, they were swollen shut.” He grumbled and tucked the papers neatly into his briefcase. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to head home.”

“Doctor Novak to room 105, Doctor Novak to room 105,” The intercom seemed to mock Castiel tonight, and he was about ready to throw his briefcase into the wall. What the hell could they want now?

“I bet he woke up and wants to pay you a thousand dollars for stitching up his beautiful face,” Hael smiled brightly at Castiel, who once again rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was going to kill him first—this new problematic patient or Hael’s constant badgering.

He tossed the briefcase lightly back onto his desk and rubbed his weary eyes before forcing himself through the office doors once again.

Even if he didn’t know the hospital like the back of his hand at this point, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find room 105, because he could hear the shouting from two halls away.

“Get the hell off me!” Someone roared, and Castiel felt his eyes roll back into his skull again. He was _not_ in the mood to deal with this kind of patient, he didn’t care _how_ famous he was.

“Back off!” The voice snarled again, and Castiel was met in the hall with a grin from Doctor Gabriel Shirley. 

“Hey there, angel boy, looks like you’ve got a fun time on your hands.” Gabriel smirked and prodded at the other man with a finger to the ribs.

“I’m hoping to sedate him and head home for the weekend, and sleep for 30 straight hours.” Castiel replied, not letting up speed.

“Aw, c’mon it can’t be _that_ bad,” Gabriel trotted alongside him. “You know, they’re saying he’s some kind of bigshot boxer!” 

“So I’ve heard,” Castiel muttered.

“At least try to enjoy yourself, angel boy,” Gabriel sighed, a smile still running across his face. “It’s not every day that something exciting happens in this nobody town.”

"I’d like to keep it that way,” Castiel grumbled. “And stop calling me that.”

“Never!” Gabriel cackled and headed off in his own direction, leaving Castiel with nothing but 20 feet of space between him and what could be one of the most difficult patients of his past year.

He heaved a deep sigh and drew closer, cringing at the sound of a vase full of flowers shattering against the door. 

“Fuck off! Let me out of here!” The voice was getting more and more agitated, and Castiel put on his best bitch face before swinging the door open to room 105. 

The man that Castiel had seen broken and weak on the operating table was now roaring with life, every muscle in his body tense as the orderlies held him against the back of the bed. He froze for a second as he watched Castiel approach, his bright green eyes scanning the doctor and seemingly sizing him up.

“Mr…..” Castiel sighed at the ridiculousness of the sentence. “Sword?” He finished and picked up the chart at the bottom of the man’s bed. 

“Yeah,” The young man huffed and pulled his arms out from the orderly’s grasp, then folded them across his chest firmly.

“Mr. Sword, do you mind telling me exactly _why_ you’re trying to leave your room with 4 dozen fresh stitches? Are you _trying_ to undo all of my hard work?” Castiel set the chart down after a quick glance and set his gaze in on the young man.

Whatever curiosity that lined the man’s face before had been wiped away and replaced with a hard-set scowl.

“Because last time I checked, this was a free country,” He snarled. “And I want to fucking leave.”

“Well, not without ripping at least 10 stitches, you aren’t,” Castiel sighed wearily, not looking to start another fight. He motioned with his head to the orderlies, who quickly took their leave. “Let me have a look at the damage you’ve already caused with your little outburst there.”

“Listen, _pal_ , but I don’t think you understand just what the fuck I’m saying when I’m telling you I want to leave,” The young man growled and instinctively pulled away as Castiel drew nearer.

“And I don’t think that _you_ understand just what _I_ mean when I tell you, you aren’t.” Castiel said firmly and reached out to take a look at the man’s torso.

Michael pulled away for a second, but soon reluctantly gave into the touch. “Fine,” He huffed, and Castiel untied the back of his gown and pried open the bloodied dressings. “Patch me up, but then I’m hitting the road.” 

“I would tell you my professional medical opinion, but I get the feeling that you’d just ignore it,” Castiel prodded at the wound, scowling at the freshly torn sutures.

Michael only let out a small puff of air in response.

“Mr. Sword?” There was a soft knock at the door and both men jumped slightly at the intrusion. 

Castiel wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a uniformed police officer. 

“Do you have a minute to talk about what happened?” The officer asked, stepping into the room. 

Castiel could feel every muscle in Michael’s body tense as he approached.

“Actually,” He interjected, not really knowing why. “I’d like to patch him up first. Then you can have a long talk with him.” 

“Oh,” The officer bowed slightly and stammered. “Of course, sir. I’ll be back later.”

Castiel gave a vague nod of approval and went back to work examining his patient, who relaxed as soon as the other man had left the room.

“Thanks,” Michael muttered and flinched as Castiel pulled at loose stitch slightly. 

“He’s not going to just leave, you know,” Castiel said bluntly, not looking up from his work. “You’re the biggest thing to hit this town in ages, and it hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed.”

“Right,” Michael mumbled under his breath. “You mean they don’t really find prized fighters beaten half to death in the dumpster.”

“Not on a typical evening, no,” Castiel said, completely emotionless as he pulled out the suture kit.

“You don’t seem too eager to get the latest gossip,” Michael sucked in a deep breath as Castiel administered the local anesthetic. 

“Not particularly,” Castiel continued to work. “You are the only thing standing between me and a long weekend.” 

“So you want me out of here just as much as I do,” Michael said, and Castiel could practically _feel_ the plan formulating in the concussed man’s half-functioning brain.

“I want you _healthy_ and out of here, likely more than you do,” Castiel grumbled, pressing fresh gauze onto the newly stitched wound. 

Michael scoffed and watched the door carefully. 

“If you’re waiting for him to come back, he won’t until I clear him for entry,” Castiel pulled the man’s gown down further to examine the next wound.

“Not really what I’m worried about,” Michael sighed and Castiel narrowed his eyes at the man for a second, before continuing. “So,” Michael cleared the air. “You’re not from around here.”

“What makes you say that?” Castiel asked, barely engaging in the conversation anymore. He just wanted to go home. 

“You’re not gawking like the rest of them,” Michael shrugged, then winced at the movement. “I know small town folk, and you ain’t one of them.”

“Thank you for your opinion,” Castiel said flatly, and finished up with the last of his stitching. “I’m going to tell the officer to question you once you’ve gotten some rest.” He stated and stood up straight, giving Michael one last once-over. He never thought that he would admit it, but Hael _was_ right. Michael was a very attractive man. And there was something about the way that he looked at him that made Castiel feel….different. 

He brushed off the eye contact between the two of them and smoothed out his coat.

“You’d better not tear up that stitching any more while I’m away. And keep the wounds clean, the last thing you want is an infection.” He said, knowing full well the Michael had no intentions of sticking around after he left.

“Have a nice vacation, doc.” Michael scoffed and settled himself down in the bed. 

“Novak.” Castiel added. “Dr. Novak.” Michael made a face of vague acceptance as he let his eyes slip shut and his head rest against the pillow. Castiel rolled his eyes, not buying into the act for a single second.

As he turned to leave, he was startled by the door to the room cracking open. Obviously, Michael was too, judging by the way he shot up in the bed. 

“Michael,” A man waltzed in, dressed in a neatly pressed suit, tie perfectly knotted on his neck. “Where have you _been_? We’ve been worried sick!” The man moved to Michael’s bedside, but Castiel’s rigid body stood between them. “Oh,” The man laughed slightly, and stuck out a hand to shake the doctor’s. “You must be Dr. Novak. The lady at the front desk told me I might find you in here.”

“And you are?” Castiel shook the man’s hand reluctantly.

“Zachariah Garrison,” The older man smiled. “I’m Mr. Sword’s manager.”

“Right,” Castiel narrowed his eyes at the man. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _off_ with the man. But why should he care? He was so close to being off for the whole weekend.  
He turned to look back at Michael, who had gone absolutely rigid and white. Right. That’s why he cared.

“Mr. Garrison,” Castiel started, but was interrupted by the older man’s finger in the air.

“Please, call me Zachariah,” He smiled warmly.

“Zachariah,” Castiel started again warily. “Mr. Sword has been through a lot today. He needs bedrest for the time being, I would be happy to discuss his condition with you while he gets some rest.”

“Sorry, no can do, Dr. Novak,” Zachariah shook his head and clicked his tongue. “I have to get ole’ Michael here to his next gig.” 

“There won’t _be_ a ‘next gig’ if he doesn’t recover,” Castiel interjected again, and he could feel Michael shifting nervously behind him.

Zachariah looked at Castiel with a rage behind the smile in his eyes, but still Castiel stood his ground.

“Fuck off, Novak.” Michael huffed from the bed, already swinging his legs over the side. “I’ve got a fight to get to.”

Castiel whirled on his heel, about to unleash hell on the younger man, but couldn’t find the words as he saw the expression on Michael’s face. The pure bravado that he hadn’t seen before. This wasn’t the Michael that he had just patched up. This was someone entirely different.

“You heard the man,” Zachariah clapped his hands. “If you’ve got some form that we need to fill out, I’d be happy to sign away.”

“Anna can help you at the front desk.” Castiel said flatly, his eyes narrowing at the young man still.

“Wonderful!” Zachariah chuckled and slapped Castiel on the back. “Well, you just have an excellent evening, and thanks again for all the help with this little ragamuffin.”

“Just doing my job.” Castiel watched Michael exude confidence as he stood shakily and made his way towards his change of clothes across the room.

The doctor shook his head. Whatever. It was time for his vacation anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading! I've never written an AU before, and this isn't beta-read, but I really appreciate your patience with me. I promise things are going to get more exciting from here on out. Thanks again! -buckminsterbarnes


	2. Chapter 2

About 7 hours in to his 30 hour scheduled slumber, Castiel woke up to the phone blaring in the living room of his apartment. He begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed, nearly tripping over the scrubs that he haphazardly shed the night before. 

“Hello?” He answered groggily, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to will the sleep away.

“Angel boy!” Gabriel yelled excitedly on the other side of the phone, and Castiel instinctively held it away from his face. “Buddy, you’ve gotta get back down here!”

“Gabriel, I’m not supposed to be on call this weekend. I really just need—” Castiel let out an exasperated sigh, but was quickly interrupted by the other doctor.

“No, Cassie. The guys from Michael Sword’s agency are here, and they want to talk to you!” Castiel could practically hear Gabriel jumping up and down with excitement.

“What do they want?” Castiel grumbled, already dreading leaving his apartment.

“They wouldn’t say, but they want you down here now! I bet it’s probably going to be some sort of reward for the bang-up job you did,” Gabriel continued to blabber, so Castiel let the phone dangle and trudged back to his room.

He slowly put on some clothes and downed a glass of orange juice, then picked up the receiver again to hear Gabriel continue to rant.

“I mean, what else could they want in a little town like this? It’s not like—” Gabriel continued as Castiel put the phone up to his ear.

“Tell them I’ll be there in ten.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. Why the hell wouldn’t these guys just leave him alone?

***  
Punctuality was Castiel’s middle name, so it surprised no one when he walked into the small hospital ten minutes later, dark bags under his eyes growing.

“Dr. Novak,” Zachariah was there to greet the doctor in the lobby. “We need to have a little chat,” The man said, a smile plastered on his face. 

Castiel put on his best ‘dealing with bullshit’ face and smiled. “Of course, Zachariah. Apologies for making you wait for me.”

“No, no! Don’t apologize,” Zachariah put up his hands insistently.

“Follow me to my office,” Castiel motioned with his hand down the hall, and Zachariah followed as he led the way.

The two men sat down in their respective places, Castiel’s hands folding neatly on his desk.

“I’ll be straight with you,” Zachariah said, throwing his hands out to the side. “I like you, Dr. Novak.” 

Castiel furrowed his brow. This was not how he was expecting this to go. 

“I heard about the way you kept ole’ Michael in check before I arrived. Truly admirable. Getting that man to listen to _anyone_ but himself is borderline impossible,” Zachariah sighed.

“I got that impression.” Castiel quipped dryly. 

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Zachariah sat forward in his chair and spoke with his hands. “He needs a new personal physician. And I think that you’re the perfect candidate.” 

Castiel stared blankly at the man. This was _certainly_ not how he thought that this would go. He expected a screaming match.

“I don’t want to pressure you either, but we need an answer today, we skip town tonight.” Zachariah sat back expectantly. “You’re a smart man, Dr. Novak. We’d love to have you on the team. This is an _amazing_ opportunity. You could see the world! And, we can pay you double what you make here.”

Castiel leaned back in his chair, completely taken aback.

“I know you’ll make the right call,” Zachariah winked and stood up. Castiel rose to see him out, and the other man slipped a business card out of his suit jacket and dropped it on the desk. “Give me a ring and let me know what you choose.”

“I’ll do it,” Castiel blurted out, immediately starting to regret the words falling out of his mouth. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t part of his plan. Still, there was something that drew him to the fighter, he just couldn’t pick out what it was.

“That’s great news!” Zachariah beamed and clapped his hands together. “We’ll send some guys over to your apartment to help you pack things up. I’ll hand things with your boss here,” The man’s smile was unrelenting. Castiel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something so unsettling about this man. Maybe it was Michael’s reaction to him the night before, he couldn’t tell. But there was something going on here, and he had to find out what.

“Glad to have you on the team,” Zachariah eagerly shook the man’s hand, and Castiel felt a wave of unsettling feelings wash over him. What the hell was he getting himself into?

***

Michael narrowly dodged another swing from Benny, panting with the effort. 

“You’re not going soft on me, are you boy?” Benny drawled, pulling back at the other man’s obvious exhaustion.

“Nah, Benny. Hit me with everything you’ve got,” Michael insisted, bouncing on his toes and readying himself for action again. “Come on, old man.”

Benny chuckled and got himself back into position.

“Oh, Michael!” Zachariah burst through the doors and Michael immediately stiffened. “Surprise for you!”

Benny dropped his guard and Michael reluctantly turned to face the intruder.

“I’m sure you remember Dr. Novak,” Zachariah motioned to the man that followed him inside.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Michael huffed and wiped the sweat from his brow. “What the hell is this jackass doing here?” He growled.

“Well,” Zachariah shrugged. “You needed a new attending physician, I thought Dr. Novak here was the perfect fit.”

“Yeah well, you were wrong,” Michael said coldly, turning back to face Benny. “Drop him back in whatever hole you found him in.”

“Now Michael,” Zachariah warned, and Castiel could see the hairs stand up on the back of the younger man’s neck. “Remember what we said about insubordination?”

Castiel could practically _feel_ Michael thinking about his next move. Benny shifted awkwardly, looking down at his gloves.

“Fine,” Michael snarled. “But we’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

“So, I’ll leave you all to get acquainted!” Zachariah beamed and clapped his hands together. “Behave yourself, Michael!”

The door shut softly behind Zachariah, and the three men stood in heavy silence.

Finally, Benny sighed and climbed out of the ring, extending a hand to Castiel. “Benny Lafitte. I’m Michael’s personal trainer,” Castiel shook the man’s hand and watched as Michael made no attempt to move. “Don’t take it personally,” Benny said softly. “He’s rough around the edges, but he’s got a heart of gold.”

“You’re full of shit, Benny!” Michael called, leaning back to rest on the ropes.

“You really shouldn’t be sparring with those wounds,” Castiel made his way towards the ring, and Benny stifled a laugh.

“Who died and made you queen?” Michael scoffed, ignoring the other man’s approach. “I’ve had worse.” He shrugged.

“The answer to a question I didn’t ask,” Castiel grumbled and slipped under the ropes. “Now let me see if you popped any of those sutures, you know, _again_.”

He approached the other man cautiously until Michael stuck out a warning hand. 

“You know what, hotshot?” Michael chuckled and stood up straight. “Why don’t you and me go a round? If you win, I’ll sit out. If I win,” Michael’s eyes sparkled with determination as he spoke. “You get the hell away from me. Forever. We understand each other?” 

Castiel thought for a second, then shrugged. “You’re on.”

“Hoo boy,” Benny whistled from outside the ring and tossed his sweaty gloves towards the doctor. “I like the fire this one’s got, Mikey.” 

Michael rolled his eyes and shook out his muscles. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Castiel slipped off his trench coat and tossed it out of the ring before tying the wraps carefully around his hands. He shot an eyebrow up at Michael as he pushed the gloves onto his hands.  
“Clean fight, boys!” Benny called. “May the best man win!”

Benny sounded the bell and Michael sprung into action, striking at Castiel. He dodged easily, and struck the other man in the side—right where he knew the stitches were. The other man dropped to his knees immediately, struggling to pull in air as he clutched his side.

“Fuck,” Michael breathed, his eyes pinched shut in pain.

“If you’re done, I’d like to fix those sutures now.” Castiel said flatly, and Benny chuckled across the room.

“Wait,” Michael, put up his hand and slowly tried to pull himself up. “It’s not over yet.”

“Mikey, it’s over.” Benny sighed and made his way back into the ring.

“Fuck,” Michael repeated, huffing in frustration as he struggled to rise. 

Benny put a supportive hand on his back, and Michael eased at the touch. “Let’s get you cleaned and rested up, alright?” Benny said softly, and Michael nodded slowly.

Castiel and Benny shared a sympathetic glance, and the two men helped him to his feet.

***

“He don’t know when to quit,” Benny sighed as he looked down at Michael, who was sleeping soundly on his bed.

“I’ve gathered that.” Castiel pried the gloves off his hands and tossed them into the trash. 

“He’s right though,” Benny shrugged. “You need to get the hell outta here as fast as your legs’ll carry you.” 

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at the other man, folding his arms across his chest.

“There’s a lot going on here that you don’t know about,” Benny continued, watching Michael’s chest fall and rise rhythmically. 

“I get the feeling that someone needs to watch out for him.” Castiel said firmly.

Benny scoffed slightly. “Yeah,” He shook his head. “Yeah, you’ve got that right.”


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel knocked softly on the boxer’s trailer door, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Not now, Zach.” He heard Michael grunt from the other side.

“It’s Dr. Novak,” Castiel huffed, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Novak? What the fuck are you still doing here?” Michael growled, and Castiel suddenly heard shattering inside. 

“Are you alright, Michael?” Castiel asked, his senses going on high alert.

“Fuck off.” Michael snarled. “What do you want anyway?”

“Zachariah asked me to look over you and make sure that you’re ready for the fight tomorrow,” Castiel answered, checking his watch again. It was getting late, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his trailer and get some much needed sleep.

“I’m fine, Novak. Now _fuck off_.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes again. “You know that I’m not leaving until I check you over.”

“Fine!” Michael yelled, and the trailer door swung open.

Castiel was momentarily taken aback by the scene. Though in the past week he had watched Michael’s wounds begin to fade, his body still hung weakly. 

“Michael—” Castiel started and took a step forward, his gaze softening. Something had happened. 

“You want me to say it in fucking _Spanish_ too? Huh? Fuck off, Novak!” Michael hissed, but still Castiel took a step forward. He could smell the whiskey on the boxer’s breath. 

“Come on,” Castiel said, his words lacking the typical bite. “Let’s go inside and talk for a second.”

“Does it look like I’m in the mood for a chat?” Michael shook his head. 

“Frankly, I don’t care what you’re in the mood for,” Castiel said flatly and made his way up the steps, standing awkwardly close to Michael, who was still guarding the doorway. 

“Personal space, dude.” Michael furrowed his brow, but Castiel didn’t relent. “Fine,” Michael reluctantly stepped back after a beat of awkward staring and silence. “Whatever,” He grumbled as Castiel made his way into the trailer and shut the door softly behind him.

The room looked better than he had expected. A broken glass on the floor and the puddle of whiskey told Castiel all that he needed to know. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to Michael, who was now bracing himself against the countertop.

Castiel reached out slowly to offer a helping hand. Michael swatted it away and pushed himself away from the counter, and staggered to the couch to flop down. 

Kneeling down beside him, Castiel popped open the first aid kit by his side. He turned his head curiously as Michael refused to meet his eyes.

“Why are you still here?” Michael said quietly, his words suddenly lacking all venom.

“Because I have a job to do.” Castiel replied curtly, taking Michael’s face in his hands, examining the fading scabs.

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” Michael grumbled.

“You didn’t have to.” Castiel replied, working his way down to Michael’s shirt, tugging at the edges. Michael wordlessly tugged the shirt off, slowly and painfully. Castiel scowled at the deepening bruises running along the young man’s ribs. That couldn’t feel good.

“Why are you still here?” Michael repeated, his vibrant green eyes suddenly fixated on the doctor’s. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be? A family to be with?”

Castiel shrugged. “No.” He closed up the first aid kit and pushed himself to his feet.

Michael seemed to ponder that for a moment, before dropping his gaze back to the ground. 

“Well Michael,” Castiel sighed. “You should be fine to fight tomorrow. Just so long as you don’t get into any bar-fights.”

He was halfway to the door when Michael muttered something almost inaudibly.

“What was that?” Castiel asked, turning on his heel.

“Dean,” Michael repeated, slightly louder this time. “My name’s Dean.” He refused to meet the doctor’s eyes again.

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, a small smile working its way to his lips. “Castiel Novak.” He offered, and Dean looked up at him.

“Castiel?” He repeated, a strange expression crossing his face. “What the fuck kind of name is _that_?” He wore mischievous grin, and Castiel simply rolled his eyes in feigned disapproval. 

“Good night, Dean.” Castiel muttered and swung the door open.

“G’night, Cas,” Dean said softly and Castiel couldn’t help but smile as he stepped out of the trailer.

***

Castiel didn’t do crowds. Hell, he hardly handled one-on-one interactions well. This time though, he figured that the sacrifice might be worth it. After all, if he was going to be travelling with this group for a while, he needed to see just what he was dealing with. 

Armed with his trusty first aid kit by his side, he stepped into the stadium where the crowd was already beginning to assemble. He could feel the excitement in the air as the fans began to take their seats. He swallowed hard and found his way to the ring, where the refs were already beginning to converse. His expression softened when Benny trotted up beside him.

“Heya, doc.” Benny smiled and patted him on the back. “Glad you could make it.”

“As am I,” Castiel nodded curtly, and sat himself down in his chair. 

“Should be a good fight tonight,” Benny sat down beside him, rubbing his hands together. “Hell’s Brigade kid.” Benny continued, but Castiel had since lost interest. Frankly, he didn’t really care _who_ Dean was fighting that night. He only cared that the boxer come out of it in one piece. 

Needless to say, Castiel wasn’t exactly sure how much excitement to expect. Sure, there was the applause when the announcer started the intros, but it was nowhere near the absolute _roar_ of the crowd when “The Michael Sword” burst through the doors.

Castiel felt his breathing hitch as the din of the crowd began to wash out all of his thoughts. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He felt the urge to get out, to leave immediately. Why was he here? Why did he think he could handle it?

But then, Dean came into view. As the younger man sauntered into the ring, bearing his robe of pure white, Castiel felt his chest loosen. He could feel Benny’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the MICHAEL SWORD!” The announcer bellowed and the crowd’s energy filled the room. Dean seemed to bask in every moment of it, throwing his hands out to the sides. Castiel felt a small smile quirk across his lips as the rest of the world seemed to disappear, just a little bit.

When the fight finally started, Castiel could hardly believe his eyes. Dean was faster than he could’ve possibly imagined. The poor sap he was up against stood no chance. Castiel watched in awe as Dean seemed to know where the man was going to strike before he even did. Sure, the kid got a couple good licks in, but he didn’t stand a chance in hell against the whirlwind force that was The Michael Sword.

***

Benny beamed from ear to ear as they met Dean back in the locker rooms.

“You did real good kid,” Benny clapped him on the shoulders as he sat down hard on the bench, obviously winded. Castiel stood curiously in the corner, clutching tight to his first aid kit.

“Thanks, Benny,” Dean huffed and took a long gulp of water.

“We’ll talk tomorrow about keeping that left side guard up.” Benny ruffled Dean’s sweaty hair and patted him on the back once again. “Don’t be late, got it?”

“Got it,” Dean rolled his eyes and shot a smile to his trainer.

“You keep him out of trouble now,” Benny nodded to Castiel, who offered a short nod in response.

“Damnit,” Dean whispered under his breath as soon as the door shut behind Benny. “Why the fuck are you _still_ here?”

“Funny,” Castiel sighed as he plopped down in front of Dean, popping open his first aid kit. “You asked the same thing last night, _Dean_.” 

Dean pulled back slightly, then froze for a second, his eyes going wild.  
“Fuck,” He finally muttered and shook his head, the memories seeming to flood back into his mind. “Guess I had more to drink than I thought,” He relaxed slightly and let Castiel dab his bleeding cheek with gauze.

“Seems like it,” Castiel said gruffly. “Any particular reason for the bender?” 

Dean chuckled slightly. “Do you ever need a reason for a bender?” 

“Most mentally stable people would say yes,” Castiel quipped as he pulled out the suture kit.

“Well,” Dean sighed heavily as he watched Castiel thread the needle. “Call it an anniversary then.”

“Special lady break your heart?” Castiel asked dryly as he prepared the local anesthetic.

“Not exactly,” Dean let out a soft sigh as Castiel pushed the needle into his skin.

“Well,” Castiel stitched with steady hands as he spoke. “I sure hope you don’t have many such anniversaries.”

“You and me both, pal.” Dean’s small smile didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel.

“So Dean,” Castiel broke the comfortable silence that fell over the two as he continued to work. “Why the dumpster?”

“Ah,” Dean let out a weak laugh. “So you _are_ just like the locals.”

“Hardly,” Castiel scoffed. “I’m just trying to gauge whether incidents like that are going to be a regular occurrence.”

“Depends,” Dean muttered. 

“On?” Castiel refused to let the subject drop.

“On whether or not you keep running your mouth,” Dean hissed, and Castiel could feel the energy in the room shift. He shut his mouth quickly, determinedly getting back stitching.

He finished up the sutures and snapped the first aid kit shut wordlessly.

“Wait,” Dean called as Castiel pushed the door open. “I’m sorry, Cas.” He said quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap on you,” He sighed heavily and Castiel let the door swing shut again. “I just… I think it’s better if you leave.” 

“For who?” Castiel asked, his words a little more biting than he intended, and Dean’s gaze moved to the floor once again.

“Everyone,” Dean finally said, near silently.

“If I’m gone, then who’s going to stitch you up?” Castiel shrugged, then smugly took his leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel couldn’t sleep. He sat for what felt like hours, watching the minutes on the clock tick by. He needed to get up.

He cursed inwardly as he recalled the aged scotch that he left with Gabriel as a going-away present. What he wouldn’t do for a sip of that right now. 

He rubbed his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to collect himself again. This wasn’t the first night he had gone without sleeping, and he knew that it wouldn’t be his last.  
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his swirling thoughts and brought him to his feet. 

He wasn’t expecting to find Benny at his trailer door, especially not at this hour.

“Benny?” Castiel rubbed his eyes. “Did something happen?” He asked, his heart starting to race as the possibilities ran through his mind.

“No, no.” Benny shook his head with a slight chuckle. “No, I just wanted to have a quick chat with ya is all.”

“Of course,” Castiel motioned for the other man to join him inside and stepped back from the door. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked as an afterthought while pulling a glass from the cabinet for himself.

“Water’s fine by me,” Benny replied politely, taking a seat at the small table at the side of Castiel’s trailer. “Hope I didn’t wake you or nothing,” 

“No, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep,” Castiel placed Benny’s glass gently down in front of him and took a seat.

“So,” Benny rubbed his hands nervously. “You adjusting well to the life of the travelling boxing clan?” 

“Slowly but surely,” Castiel sighed and took a sip of his water. “I must say, Perdition seems to have quite the way of doing things around here.”

“Yeah,” Benny scoffed and pushed his glass around the table a bit. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“Enlighten me,” Castiel pried slightly, looking the other man in the eyes.

“Listen,” Benny rubbed the back of his head, quickly looking away. “I ain’t going to say nothing that’s going to get me in trouble. If there’s anything you want to know about the Perdition boxing agency, that’s something you gotta bring up with Michael.”

“Dean,” Castiel corrected politely, and Benny gave a surprised nod of understanding.

“So he _did_ tell you a bit about himself, huh?” Benny seemed to relax a bit. “’s that all he told ya?”

“He doesn’t appear to be the type to divulge in the details often,” Castiel muttered. 

“If that ain’t the truth,” Benny laughed.

“Why are you here, Benny?” Castiel asked, folding his hands neatly on the table.

“You mean like, travelling with Perdition, or like, here in your trailer?” Benny shrugged.

“Start with the second, get to the first.” Castiel said stiffly, carefully gauging his words. Everyone he had met with so far seemed dodgy at best, he didn’t want to ruin his one chance at maybe getting good information.

“Well,” Benny sighed. “The other day, Dean threw a hissy fit and you and I got to talking. Well, I told ya there were some things going on that you didn’t quite understand just then. I guess I just wanted to know what you know.”

“I know that no one here seems to know how to answer a straightforward question,” Castiel bit back, and immediately regretted his words.

“Damn straight,” Benny huffed and took another sip of water. “But I mean, specifics. You ain’t heard anything?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“That’s either a really good thing, or a really bad thing,” Benny shook his head. “Ole’ Dean, well…” He trailed off and let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, Dr. Novak. Are you planning on sticking around, no matter how much he hollers at you to go away?”

“I intend to do my job,” Castiel paused. “So, yes.”

Benny smiled and shook his head slowly. “That’s what I figured you’d say.” He let out another long sigh. He finally raised his eyes to meet the doctor’s. “If that’s the case, you’d better listen here and listen real good. These people, they don’t fuck around. You hear something, you pretend you _didn’t_. Catch my drift?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, but nodded slightly in understanding. “What kind of things?”

“Things that they do, business they deal in.” Benny tapped on the table as he spoke. “You want to leave this place with your life intact one day, you’ll play oblivious.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Castiel asked suddenly, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. Everything that he had sensed before seemed less and less outlandish by the second.

“He cares about you, Dr. Novak,” Benny sat back in his chair. “Hell, I haven’t seen him get that way in quite some time. And the last time he did—” Benny let out a puff of air. “Well, let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“I suppose you won’t tell me why,” Castiel sighed.

“Not my place to tell,” Benny shrugged and finished the last of his water. “I came here to warn you, doctor. Not to spill hot gossip. So you just keep your head down, and do your job. Understood?”

“Understood.” Castiel nodded curtly. “Onto the second question. Why are _you_ travelling with the Perdition Agency?”

“Started with a few debts,” Benny frowned, running his hands through his hair. “Ended with me not being able to bring myself to leave the kid.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, and the two sat in silence as they thought back to dragging Dean back to his trailer not too long ago. He was right, _someone_ needed to watch over him. He surely wasn’t capable on his own, not like that.

“It was nice meeting you,” Benny stood up and shook Castiel’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other in the future.”

“I hope so,” Castiel offered a brief smile as he saw the other man out.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel certainly wasn’t expecting himself to like the lack of routine. The utter lack of structure in his day-to-day life. He wasn’t often updated on when they were moving from place to place, and was often begrudgingly awoken by the sounds of trailers being loaded around their site.

Still, there was something about this new life that was so _exciting_. It wasn’t the crowds, it wasn’t the cameras. No, it was something else entirely, but it wasn’t something that he cared to admit to himself. Not now, not ever.

Despite Benny’s warnings, Castiel never seemed to find himself amidst anything that made his skin crawl. Aside from the occasional glance from Zachariah to Dean, Castiel didn’t seem to notice anything at all, except for the growing nagging in his stomach that something just wasn’t quite right. He kept his head down and performed his check-ups on Dean after fights, and kept his nose in his books when he wasn’t with the boxer.

Speaking of the boxer…

Well, Dean hadn’t said more than two words to the doctor since their little spat. Castiel tried to pay it no mind, but he could feel it slowly eating away at him. Still, he couldn’t let that get to him. He had a job to do, and he’d be damned if anything was going to get in the way of him doing his job, and doing it right.

Castiel had the special talent of finding a new normal wherever he ended up, it seemed. Despite the constant shaking and bustling around him, he settled in. He found his footing, and he dug his heels in until he stuck.

That is, until the night that Benny nearly broke down his door.

At the first sound of knocking, Castiel was already on his feet, too restless to fall asleep that night anyway. By the time he got to the door, it was nearly off its hinges. He carefully pried it open to find Benny standing in front of him, panting loudly.

“Dr. Novak,” He breathed, his eyes wide with something Castiel had never seen in the man before—fear.

“Is everything alright, Benny?” 

“Ya better hurry,” Benny huffed, balancing his hands on his knees, trying to keep from keeling over. “Bring the kit.”

Castiel gave the man a once-over, his eyes catching on a bloodstain on his chest. “Benny—” Castiel stepped forward, snatching the kit from the side of his doorway and swinging it out in front of him.   
“It ain’t for me,” Benny shook his head and shared a worried glance with the doctor before racing off into the night. 

Castiel swore and slipped on his shoes, taking off after the former boxer, failing miserably to match his stride, despite his own agility. The man was _fast_.

It somehow didn’t surprise the doctor when they ended up in the training gym, bursting through the doors. What _did_ surprise him, however, was the state of Dean lying on the cold, hard ground, unmoving. Benny slid beside him and cradled the man’s head in his lap.

Castiel did a double take, as he was trained, and scanned the room for any threats. As soon as he gave himself the all-clear, he was at the boxer’s side in a heartbeat. 

“Dean,” He said gruffly, checking the younger man’s wounds. “Can you hear me?” His eyes caught on what looked like whip slashes across his bare chest. 

“C-Cas?” Dean mumbled weakly, his eyes struggling to pull themselves open. “Damnit, Benny…” Dean trailed off, wheezing and shutting his eyes tightly at the effort. “Told you—told you not to call him,” Dean choked out the words as Castiel popped open his first aid kit. 

“And I told _you_ not to be a dumbass, but here we are,” Benny snapped back, placing his hand gently on Dean’s forehead.

“Anyone want to clue me in on what we’re dealing with here?” Castiel snarled as he pulled on his gloves and ran his fingers down the man’s torso carefully, cursing inwardly as he felt the bruises on the man’s ribs. 

“’s nothing, you can go home,” Dean coughed out and Benny sucked his teeth.

“Someone decided to go rough on him,” Benny shook his head. 

Castiel hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “Can you tell me what hurts, Dean?”

“N-nothing,” Dean said weakly, attempting to sit up slightly, but was quickly pushed back down by Benny.

“Ribs? Back?” Castiel asked, and waited for Dean’s slow nod. “Am I missing anything else?” Dean shook his head slowly and Castiel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “You’re not going to bleed to death on me, are you?” 

The small smile that quirked on Dean’s lips wasn’t lost on Castiel. The younger man shook his head slowly again, sagging into Benny’s lap.

“Dean,” Castiel snapped, and Dean seemed to wake up, albeit it only slightly. “Dean I need you to stay awake for me so I can assess the damage to that thick skull of yours.”

“Jus’ five more minutes…” Dean trailed off and his body relaxed, falling into a deep slumber.

“Damnit,” Castiel swore and locked eyes with Benny. “We need to get him back to my trailer. It isn’t safe here.”

“Your trailer?” Benny narrowed his eyes in confusion, shifting carefully to grab Dean’s arm.

“They’ll be looking for him at his trailer, right?” Castiel said his words biting only slightly. He couldn’t stop the anger that was beginning to bubble up inside him. Someone had done this to Dean. And why? Castiel couldn’t see any signs of defensive struggle at first glance. Only bloodied and rope-burned wrists and whip slashes. 

“Right,” Benny breathed and pulled Dean to a sitting position, wrapping the younger man’s arm over his shoulder.

Castiel followed suit after latching up his first aid kit once again. He had to get Dean to safety first. The two men dragged Dean to his feet and they stumbled out of the training gym’s door, carrying the dead-weight of the prized boxer between them.

They finally made it to Castiel’s trailer and plopped the younger man onto Castiel’s bed, as carefully as they could manage despite their own fatigue. 

“Is he going to be alright, Doc?” Benny hovered as Castiel set to work cleaning out the wounds. 

“Assuming that they won’t be returning,” Castiel paused for a moment, remembering Benny’s warning about asking questions. “He should be just fine in a few days.”

Benny let out a hefty sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I get you anything?”

“A less fight-prone patient,” Castiel grumbled half-heartedly, and Benny let out a short laugh.

Dean slept soundly through the alcohol splashing and bandage wrapping, which worried Castiel slightly, but he couldn’t dwell on it. The younger man’s body had been through a lot, so he just chalked it up to extreme fatigue.

Benny pulled Castiel up a chair by the bedside and handed him a glass of whiskey, nervously wringing his hands together as the doctor sat.

“Nothing’s broken, luckily. Just a few bruised ribs and the lacerations. Should I be worried about a concussion?” Castiel sighed as he took a sip from the glass.

“No,” Benny shook his head. “No they didn’t hit him over the head or nothin’.” 

“Good,” Castiel said curtly and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Lord knows the last thing he needs is another concussion.”

Benny laughed nervously and sat down beside Castiel. “When’s he gonna wake up?”

“Hard to say,” Castiel shrugged. “He’s taken quite the beating. His body’s exhausted, at best. He’ll wake up when he’s ready.”

“Good,” Benny nodded slowly, holding his head in his hand. “Y’all should be safe in here, but I can keep watch from the living room if you’d like.”

Castiel knew how to read between the lines, despite his “rusty” people skills. Castiel knew that the trainer didn’t want to leave the boxer’s side, but he also couldn’t seem to look Castiel in the eyes anymore. 

“Thank you, Benny. That would be optimal.” Castiel smiled slightly at the other man, who quietly took his leave, stealing one last glance at the boxer before shutting the door softly behind him.  
Castiel settled himself as comfortably as he could into his dining chair at the bed’s side and sighed deeply. It was going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

“Cas?” Castiel was only half-conscious when he heard Dean call out for him softly. His eyes fluttered open to find Dean surprisingly still lying down in the bed, his head turned towards Castiel.

“Dean,” Castiel said gruffly, and cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dean muttered and turned his head back to the ceiling. “Why am I here?”

“I didn’t want someone to find you in your trailer alone.” Castiel said dryly, swirling the small amount of whisky left in his glass. 

“Hmph.” Dean offered in response. After a long silence, he finally spoke again. “Did he tell you?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “And I didn’t ask.”

“You’re learning,” Dean let out a hoarse laugh and began to cough. Castiel rose to his feet, but Dean put up a hand and brought his breathing back under control. “Don’t make me laugh,” He chuckled cautiously.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Castiel muttered and slowly sat back down, taking another sip from his glass. 

“Y’know,” Dean shifted slightly under the blankets. “Most people would be freaking the fuck out right now, doctor or not.”

“Guess I’m not most people,” Castiel shrugged.

“My experience, the only people that don’t react to fucked-up shit, is people that have lived through fucked-up shit,” Dean mused, then fell silent. “So what was your poison, doc?” He asked gently.  
“Oh, I didn’t know that it was sharing hours,” Castiel huffed.

“You served, didn’t you?” Dean asked softly and Castiel’s blood ran cold. Dean turned his head to face the doctor, and saw his body stiffen. Dean’s green eyes danced with sympathy, but Castiel looked away.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean started, his voice gentle and calm. “I didn’t mean to set you off or anything,”

“Am I that easy to read?” Castiel simply played it off and took another sip from the nearly empty glass. 

“No,” Dean shook his head and turned away from the doctor. “I just… I see the way you look at things sometimes. Far-off. Cold. Like you’re looking at something that just isn’t there,” Dean sighed. “My dad used to be the same way. Served in the second world war,” Dean seemed to choke on his words as he fell silent again.

The two sat in silence, neither one sure of what exactly to say.

“That was a long time ago,” Castiel muttered. “A lifetime ago.”

“Still,” Dean sighed. “You never really forget that shit, do you?”

“No,” Castiel admitted. He bit his lip. This was his chance to learn more, but he knew that he would have to dig. “I signed up, you know.” Castiel cleared his throat. “They said we were all going to get drafted anyway, and I thought, why not? I could serve my country, I would get the medical training I always dreamed of,” Castiel let out a deep sigh. “Now I only wish that I could’ve done more.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, eyes filled with concern, the curiosity barely masked in his expression.

“Not important,” Castiel shrugged and polished off the last of his whisky. “The past is the past.” He suddenly felt like he had to go. He needed air. He needed to get out, at least for a little while. He thought he could do this, but he was so wrong. 

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, and Castiel felt his heart soften, the swirling in his head slowing down, just a tiny bit. “Cas you don’t have to talk about it.” Dean smiled a small and soft smile, when Castiel met his eyes. “I uh, I had dreams like that once,” He started, and Castiel felt his heart rate begin to slow. “I wanted to be a mechanic.”

Castiel let out a small huff of laughter.

“No, it’s true! I know it’s not the same kind of glamour as being a doctor, but, well…. I don’t know. It was always just something I wanted to do.” Dean fell silent, looking down at the covers draped across his body. “It sounds dumb, I know.”

“No it doesn't,” Cas was quick to interject. “It sounds lovely.”

Dean smiled softly at the response, still staring down at the bed sheets.

“You know,” Cas added after a small and heavy silence. “You _could_ become a mechanic. There’s nothing stopping you.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed. “Right.” He said, the defeat dripping from his voice.

“Well,” Cas shifted nervously, then stood up. “I’m going to make sure that Benny covers for you during training in the morning.”

“Cas?” Dean called out softly as Castiel stepped out the door. He turned on his heel to see a sheepish Dean refusing to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Castiel offered a small smile in return and closed the door softly behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, how are you feeling, Dean?” Castiel asked, already undoing the latches on his First Aid Kit. 

“Hungry,” Dean grumbled, shifting himself to sit up painfully. 

“I’ll go get you some crackers.” Castiel made his way back to the kitchen and swung the cabinet open, only to be faced with a few battered boxes.

Making a mental note to do some grocery shopping, he emerged victoriously with a half-empty box of likely stale crackers. 

“I’m not eating those,” Dean scoffed, bracing himself against the doorway.

“Dean,” Castiel grumbled, striding towards the boxer to support him, but Dean put out a hand in protest. 

“Listen, I’ve been cooped up in here for _days_ Cas. I’m getting out and getting some real food.” 

Castiel couldn’t help but stare for a second at the other man’s lean and shirtless form.

“You’ve been here for two days, don’t be overdramatic,” Castiel shook off his thoughts and set his gaze back on the other man’s eyes. “And you most certainly are _not_. You have a fight in three days, and if you aren’t back in shape you’re going to get your ass kicked.”

“Cute,” Dean chuckled and shook his head.

“Disobeying your doctor’s orders is ‘cute’ to you?” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” Dean paused for a second, and Castiel could’ve sworn that the boxer was looking him over. “The fact that you think I’d _lose_ is cute.” Dean pushed himself off the door frame and back into Castiel’s room. “I’m borrowing some clothes. You need a shower. Then we’re heading out.” 

Castiel scoffed, cracker box still in hand. He shook his head, but he couldn’t help the smile quirking on his lips. “Fine.” He mumbled and headed towards the shower.

***

“Sweater-vests, Cas? Really?” Dean tugged slightly on the blue sweater that clung tightly to his skin. 

“It’s an acceptable fashion choice,” Castiel shrugged and slipped onto the bar stool next to where Dean had plopped down. 

“Little stuffy, if you ask me,” Dean scoffed, but his tone was light and happy.

“That’s because it’s two sizes too small,” Castiel shook his head at the younger man. 

“Can I get you boys something?” The waitress waltzed over and asked. 

“I’ll have your bacon burger and fries,” Dean smiled broadly at the young blonde woman. “Extra bacon. Oh, and a strawberry milkshake.”

The waitress jotted down his order, completely oblivious to the scowl that Castiel was shooting at Dean. “And for you?” She looked up at Castiel.

“I’ll have a glass of water and a chicken salad.” He said bluntly and folded his hands on the bar.

“No he won’t,” Dean scoffed. “He’ll have the same as me.” He said, leaning in towards the waitress.

“Of course,” She blushed and folded up her notepad. “I’ll get those right out.”

“Dean,” Castiel warned, but Dean had a hand on his shoulder before he could get out any more words.

“Listen Cas, you’ve got to live a little,” He chuckled, but Castiel barely heard him over the warmth of the other man’s touch. “You can have salad for dinner, I promise.” Dean patted Castiel and drew his arm away. Castiel felt the cold rush up on him immediately, and longed to feel the warmth again.

“So,” Dean cleared his throat as the waitress slid the milkshakes down the counter towards them. “What’s your favorite car?” He asked before gulping down his milkshake hungrily.

“I—I don’t have one,” Castiel admitted, spinning the straw between his finger, staring anxiously down at the milkshake now in front of him.

“C’mon Cas, never had a milkshake before?” Dean laughed.

“No, actually.” Castiel admitted. “I’m not sure that I’ll like it.” 

Dean stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “They’re incredibly unhealthy and I’ve never had the desire for one.” 

“Well,” Dean smiled broadly. “Looks like that’s going to change today. C’mon, try some!” He pushed the glass towards Castiel. Castiel sighed and took a sip. Dean’s face lit up when he saw the expression on Castiel’s face. He let out a hearty bellow and put his hand back on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Told ya you’d like it,” He laughed and patted the man on the back again.

“Doesn’t make it good for you,” Castiel grumbled as he took another sip.

“It’s good for the _soul_ Cas. Which is like, equally as important.” Dean lectured and Castiel rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a smile.

“You know what my favorite car is?” Dean looped back around to the earlier conversation between sips of milkshake. “’67 Impala. Absolutely _beautiful_ lady. I’d love to get my hands on one someday. That new car smell, 8 cylinders,” Dean trailed off, closing his eyes wistfully. “Fucking gorgeous, Cas.” 

Cas couldn’t help but smile as he watched Dean’s expression while he talked about the car. It was almost like the man sitting next to him was completely different than the man he had seen in the hospital that day. 

“I’m assuming you don’t have strong opinions about cars,” Dean turned to Cas, who quickly looked away. 

“Not particularly,” Castiel turned his attention to the burgers that were slide in front of them. “I guess that I prefer whatever gets me from place to place.”

“You’re a strange on, Castiel Novak. You know that?” Dean chuckled and took a chunk out of his burger. 

Castiel pushed the warmth that was growing in his stomach as he slowly picked the fries off his plate.

“Oh shit,” Dean suddenly stopped scarfing down his food and looked up. “You ever heard this song?” 

Castiel stopped for a moment to turn his ear to the beaten-up, old record player in the corner of the room. “Something Stupid?” Castiel asked after a moment.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean nodded, his brow furrowed. “Couldn’t remember the name of it.” 

“I think this is Sinatra’s cover,” Castiel continued. “It’s not the original recording, that’s for certain.” Dean stared at Castiel with big green eyes, filled with some emotion that Castiel couldn’t quite place.  
“Nerd,” Dean scoffed and elbowed the other man, then set back in on demolishing his burger.

The two sat in companionable silence as they polished off their meals, Dean taking the liberty of finishing up Castiel’s fries for him. Dean ordered them both an apple pie slice for dessert, insisting that Castiel come on a run with him to work off the ‘unhealthy choices that Dean had made for him’.

Dean slapped down the cash at the table, and the two left the restaurant. Castiel tried desperately to shake off the growing swelling in his heart. He couldn’t do this. Not again.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel felt a strange anxiety creeping up his spine as he rounded the corner to Zachariah’s trailer. He hadn’t spoken to the man other than in passing since he arrived with the crew the month before. Castiel had felt something…unsettling about him, but he chocked it up to his anxieties. Still, he couldn’t help but get goosebumps up his spine as he knocked on the office door.

The door slid open, but much to Castiel’s surprise, it wasn’t Zachariah who was answered.

A man with strangely yellowed eyes appeared in the doorway, offering up a bone-chilling smile.

“Ah, is that Dr. Novak?” Zachariah called from across the room. “Let him in.”

The yellow-eyed man swung open the door and motioned the doctor inside.

“Thank you for your time, Azazel. We’ll be in touch.” Zachariah smiled from his desk, his hands folded neatly on top.

“Happy to oblige,” Azazel tipped his fedora to the boss and quietly left.

“Dr. Novak,” Zachariah chimed, shaking Castiel from his unsettled trance. “It’s good to see you! Come in, come in. Go ahead and take a seat,” Zachariah motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Castiel sat down gracefully, yet stiffly. He couldn’t shake the goosebumps dancing on his skin.

“So,” Zachariah smiled at the other man. “How have you been? Are you enjoying your time with us?”

“Yes,” Castiel shook his head curtly. “It has been an interesting new experience, to say the least.”

“I have to say,” Zachariah animatedly spoke. “I’m frankly a bit surprised that you haven’t high-tailed it out of here yet,” Zachariah laughed and Castiel quirked and eyebrow. “The last guy we had was here for, oh, about five days. Michael can be a bit difficult to handle,” He chuckled. “Ah, but you seem to be settling in well!”

“Yes,” Castiel repeated, his throat going dry. “Yes he is a bit on the difficult side, but I’ve dealt with worse patients.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Zachariah nodded. “Being out in Vietnam can’t have been an easy environment to work in to begin with, let alone with the combat.”

Castiel felt his heart drop.

“Yeah,” Zachariah sighed, folding his hands against the desk again. “We know.”

Castiel’s entire world spun around him.

“Listen, Dr. Novak. Frankly, we couldn’t care less about your past. Hell, we know what went down when we hired you,” He laughed an unsettling laugh, and Castiel shrunk in his chair. “But, that doesn’t make that information any less valuable to… well, to anyone else,” Zachariah continued.

Castiel sat frozen in place, trying to come up with any kind of words at all.

“You’ve been with us for, what, a month now?” Zachariah clicked his tongue. “Things don’t always run smoothing around here, Dr. Novak. To ensure that everything goes according to plan, we have to take some…precautions with information gathering.”

Castiel opened his mouth, but Zachariah put up a hand to stop him.

“We don’t plan on taking any action right now, don’t worry that little head of yours. We’re just simply… well, we’re letting you know what we know. In case anything were to happen.”  
Castiel nodded his head slowly.

“That’s all I have for you today, Dr. Novak. Keep up the great work keeping that sword sharpened,” Zachariah chuckled as Castiel stood up slowly, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Oh, and Castiel?” Zachariah stopped him before he could walk out. “I don’t know how keen on this information Michael would be, do you? So let’s just keep this to ourselves, then.”

Castiel offered a weak nod, and shut the door softly behind him.

***

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to answer the soft knocking on his trailer door. In fact, it wasn’t until his heard Dean’s voice that he even noticed it at all.

“Cas?” The knocking continued, and Castiel stood up and moved himself and his drink towards the bedroom. “Cas!” He stopped cold in his tracks as he heard the desperation in Dean’s voice.  
Reluctantly, he swung open the door. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey man, are you alright? It’s not like to not answer the door, and I haven’t seen much of you lately, and I guess I just wondered if—”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Castiel said gruffly. “What do you need?”

“Oh,” Dean took a half step back, but soon regained his composure. “I—I,” He paused and let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I just wanted to check on you.” His eyes met the doctor’s again, and Castiel felt his heart start to melt. “You sure you’re okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said coldly again, shutting his feelings down.

“Right,” Dean looked down again and shook his head softly. “Right, of course. Sorry to bother you then.”

Castiel let the door shut softly, and made a beeline for the whiskey.

***

A week later, the days started to get lonelier and lonelier. Castiel had only seen Dean once, while he was patching up a cut sustained in the match of the week. He spent his time in his trailer, living in the bottom of a glass. Dean had been right. He should’ve gotten out while he could. Now, he would have nowhere else to go.

“Cas?” Dean’s weak voice called from the door again, and Castiel buried his head in his hands. It was killing him to hear Dean this way, but he didn’t have any other options. “Cas, I know you’re mad at me, but I—I can’t do this,” Dean’s voice cracked and Castiel shot up to his feet. “I can’t be alone right now, Cas.” 

Castiel swung the door open. Dean was taken aback, tears welling in his eyes.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” He started to sob. “Cas, I’m so so sorry,” Castiel took him by the shirt sleeve and dragged him inside.

“Jesus, Dean,” Castiel switched into doctor mode and shut the door behind them before ushering Dean to the couch. “What’s happening?” Dean buried his face in his hands. “Dean?” Castiel pried, sitting down beside the boxer, not releasing the balled up fabric of his shirt. “Dean!”

“Cas,” Dean looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, filled with tears. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Dean,” Castiel softened his voice and Dean buried his head in his hands again. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I—I didn’t mean to scare you away,” Dean sobbed, and the uneasy feeling in Castiel’s chest got stronger. 

“Dean, you didn’t scare me away,” The guilt started to eat away at Castiel as he released Dean’s shirt and rubbed circles on the man’s back instead. “You didn’t, I promise.”

“Oh,” Dean sniffled. “Oh.” He repeated, trying to steel himself. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” Castiel insisted and he could feel Dean’s muscles tense. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“I—” Dean started, but quickly stopped himself. “No, no. Nothing.” He shook his head and wiped his eyes, trying to stop the crying. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. This isn’t your problem.”  
Dean tried to stand up, but Castiel pushed him back down gently.

“Dean, I’m not letting you out of here until you tell me what’s going on.” Castiel pushed, and Dean sighed heavily.

“I can’t tell you, Cas. I can’t.” His voice was broken and weak.

“Why can’t you tell me?” Castiel persisted. “Aren’t we friends? You can tell me anything.”

Dean fell quiet, and Castiel took that time to give him a once over. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place, but he couldn’t tell by the way that the boxer was sitting.

“Are you hurt?” Castiel asked softly and Dean shook his head.

Although only slightly satisfied, Castiel let the matter drop, and opted to sit quietly beside the boxer instead. Dean’s breathing began to even out as he sunk into the couch.

“You promise you aren’t upset with me?” Dean asked, almost silently.

“Dean, I promise.” Castiel offered a soft smile in return.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Dean pleaded with big green eyes.

“Of course,” Castiel nodded and gathered some blankets from his room before settling them on top of Dean. “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

“Thank you, Cas.” Dean sniffled and pulled the blankets around himself tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No reason to apologize,” Castiel cooed and grabbed a glass of water for Dean and set it on the end table for him. “Come get me if you need anything.”

Dean nodded, and Castiel slid the door to his room shut behind him, cursing inwardly. What the fuck was he doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no update, sorry for that! Anyway, I hope that you're enjoying the story so far. It's completely different than anything I've ever written, so sorry if it's a bit clunky. I'm trying to find my stride.   
> Thank you for reading, hope you stick around!


	9. Chapter 9

After a few sleepless hours, Castiel watched as the sun began to peek through his window. Truth be told, he spent most of his night propped against the door of his room, listening for any kind of movement. 

Something wasn’t right with Dean, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. And it wasn’t like Dean was ready to share things with him, anyway. 

Castiel sighed and heaved himself off the ground, running his hands through his hair and slipping on a fresh shirt. Not unexpectedly, though unwanted, Castiel opened the door to reveal an empty living room. The blankets were neatly folded on the couch, the glass of water washed and returned to the cabinet. Castiel cursed inwardly, kicking himself for not being more vigilant. Now Dean was who knows where, alone and possibly in danger. 

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Castiel made his way out of his trailer and to the training center. He could hear Benny and Dean inside, and he could feel the tension starting to work its way out of his body. He was with Benny. He would be okay. 

He paused at the door, debating going inside. He knew that the more time he spent with Dean was more time that he himself would be in danger, but the less time he spent with Dean would mean more danger for the boxer. 

After some deliberation, Castiel sighed heavily and made his way back to his trailer. If Dean wanted to talk, he knew where to find him. Until then, there wasn’t much that he could accomplish.

***

Castiel couldn’t take it anymore, much to his dismay. He had tried so hard to get Dean’s outburst out of his head, but it was stuck there tight, the image of Dean sobbing etched into the back of his eyelids. He had to go see him.

He tried to steady himself at Dean’s door, his hand hovering over it, frozen to the spot. Before he could build up the nerve to knock, the door creaked open.

“Cas?” Dean’s green eyes swam with confusion and concern. “You okay?”

“Dean—” Cas was startled by the changes in the man. He looked nothing like the one that slept on his couch the night before.

Dean narrowed his eyes and ushered the doctor in. “You look shook up,” Dean offered a nervous laugh as Castiel stepped inside.

“Well,” Castiel struggled to find words. “I did have a very worked up visitor sleep on my couch last night.”

“Oh,” Dean sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that Cas.”

“No need to apologize,” Castiel tilted his head curiously. “But I do think that you owe me an explanation.”

Dean looked at the floor and ran his finger through his hair. “Cas, you know I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?” Castiel pressed, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Dean, I—” Castiel was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the trailer door. Suddenly, the soft and timid Dean that stood in front of Cas was gone. He was replaced by a hardened and alerted guard dog of a man. 

Castiel was only partially aware of Dean grabbing him by the arm and shoving him through the trailer and into the closet of his room, shutting the doors tightly behind him.

“Don’t make a sound,” He grumbled in a low tone. Castiel nodded, though he wasn’t sure why.

He pressed his ear to the door, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Michael,” Castiel heard a muffled foreign voice call out.

“Uriel,” He heard Dean’s growl, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Woah, down boy,” Uriel’s low chuckle sent shivers down Castiel’s spine. “I’m here to give you your victory.” 

“Great, now get out.” Dean snarled.

“Not so fast,” Castiel heard the door catch on Uriel’s hand. “I’ve brought good news. The big fight? They’ve set a date.”

“Great! Get the hell out of my trailer.” Dean barked and slammed the door. 

Castiel let out the breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding in. He stumbled back from the door as Dean pried it open.

“You alright, Cas?” Dean refused to meet his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m fine.” Cas cleared his throat. “Can I come out of the closet now?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Dean chuckled and stepped back. “Let me guess,” Dean sighed as Castiel brushed himself off. “You’re going to want to talk about this.”

“See, I knew you weren’t _that_ stupid.” Castiel quipped dryly and Dean let out a nervous laugh.

“Cas, I don’t—I can’t—”

“I don’t care,” Castiel folded his arms across his chest again. “I don’t care what you don’t think you can or can’t do. I’m part of this now, Dean. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Cas, if I tell you, they’ll—”

“They already have me tied in,” Castiel interrupted with a heavy sigh. Dean stared at him, his eyes filled with sorrow and disbelief. “So I deserve to know what’s going on with my patient.”

Dean stared down at the floor and dropped to sit on his bed. “Perdition doesn’t like to lose.” He admitted, his voice quiet and solemn.

“No one likes to lose, Dean.” Castiel assured him as he sat down beside him.

“Yeah, well, they _really_ don’t like to lose.” He held his head in his hands. “They—they like to take precautions to make sure that I win if the fight’s tough.”

“What does that mean, Dean? You’re an excellent fighter, I’ve seen you in the ring. Surely they can see—”

“Everyone has their limits, Cas.” Dean stared up at Castiel. “Even me. No matter how fast, how strong, how _good_ I am. Sometimes…sometimes it isn’t enough for them.”

Castiel sat in silence, hanging on to every word Dean said. He couldn’t feel anything around him anymore. He was deadlocked on Dean’s beautiful green eyes.

“They give me…. They give me this stuff.” Dean sighed and pulled out a baggie full of pills, and pushed them into Castiel’s hands, looking away in shame.

Castiel took the pills in his hands, and his heart caught in his throat. He knew these pills.

“I don’t know what they are, but…but I know they aren’t good.” Dean sighed and wrung his hands together.

“Dean,” Castiel had to stop for a second to catch his breath. “Dean, these are strong amphetamines. Do you know what those are?”

Dean shook his head, refusing to meet Castiel’s eyes. “They’re highly addictive,” Castiel sighed, trying to control the hatred of Perdition growing in his stomach. “Dean, this is some serious stuff, if not taken in moderation. I’m assuming they aren’t having you use it in moderation.” 

Dean shook his head and Castiel closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

“How long has this been going on?” Castiel asked and Dean went rigid. “Dean?” Castiel pried after a beat of silence.

“On and off since I joined with Perdition years ago.” Dean huffed. “It’s been getting more frequent with the big fight on the horizon.”

“The big fight?” Castiel asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Me and the frontrunner of Hell’s Brigade. They call him Diablo.” Dean sighed and sat back against the couch. “They’ve been trying to set this thing up for _years_ now. They really don’t want me to fuck it up.”

“You need to stop taking them. _Immediately_. And I mean it.” Castiel stuffed the pills into his pocket.

“Cas, you know that I can’t.” Castiel felt his heart shatter as he watched a tear roll down Dean’s face.

A heavy silence fell over them as Castiel watched Dean with care. They were stuck in an impossible situation now. There was nothing either of them could do. 

“Cas, if they know you know,” Dean croaked, looking up at Castiel with red and puffy eyes. 

“They won’t find out.” Castiel assured him. “I promise you that, Dean.”

Dean slowly nodded his head, obviously not convinced. “You should’ve left while you could.”

“I don’t regret it.” Castiel said firmly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Not for one second.”

Dean averted his eyes again, wringing his hands together.

“We’ll figure this out.” Castiel patted Dean on the back.

“Right,” Dean muttered and brushed his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll check back in with you tomorrow,” Castiel cleared his throat and stood up.

“Wait,” Dean called out as Castiel reached the door. “Cas, I need them.” He said, nearly silently.

Castiel turned around, stiffening slightly. “No, Dean, you don’t. You can win the fight without them.”

“Cas, you don’t understand,” Dean rose to his feet to meet Castiel. “I _need_ them. Don’t do this to me.” He shook his head, his eyes filled with pain.

“The last thing we need is you getting addicted,” Castiel stood tall and firm. “I’ve seen what happens, and I’m not letting you go down that road.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Dean’s tone grew shakier and angrier.

“I do.” Castiel squared his shoulders to the boxer’s. He knew it was a fight he would lose, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fight anyway. “If I’m going to help you, it has to start here.”

Dean stare went right through Castiel. He finally relented and made his way back to the couch. “Fine.” He muttered. “ _Fine_.”


	10. Chapter 10

“So you see, that’s why you don’t just _watch_ for the movements. You gotta anticipate them,” Dean chuckled and took another swig of his whiskey. Castiel sat on Dean’s couch in quiet contentedness, watching the younger man’s eyes light up as he spoke. “He may have been half my size, but that demon gave me a helluva fight.”

The duo sat in comfortable silence, each enjoying their respective whiskeys, until the record needle reached the end. Castiel moved to stand up and reset it, but Dean put up a hand to stop him.  
The boxer wordlessly stood up and moved to the record player, slipping a vinyl from its paper package and placing it tenderly onto the player. Castiel’s ears perked up as he heard the familiar song come to life.

“I got it after the diner the other day,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I really liked the song, and—” He cut himself off, and Castiel could’ve sworn he saw blush rising on the younger man’s face as Frank and Nancy Sinatra’s voices filled the room with ‘Something Stupid’. 

“It’s a good song,” Castiel agreed and poured another glass of whiskey for his counterpart.

He handed it off to Dean, who brushed his hand while taking the glass into his own. After a second’s pause, Dean set the glass on the table and took Castiel’s hand instead, pulling him off the couch.

“C’mon, doc. You’ve got to know how to dance, don’t you?” Dean smirked, and Castiel could see the anxiety behind his eyes.

“They didn’t exactly teach it in medical school,” Castiel said dryly as he hesitantly stood up with Dean’s help.

Dean offered a short laugh in response as he dropped Castiel’s hand, much to the doctor’s dismay. He motioned to the open part of the trailer living room.

“Wait,” Dean stopped and looked at the other man up and down. “You’re going to overheat in that trench coat of yours,” He clicked his tongue and slid his hands onto the doctor’s shoulders, pulling the coat off his shoulders.

Castiel willed himself to stop the hummingbird-like speed of his heart. He kept telling himself he was overthinking as Dean hung up his coat and made his way back to him.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy. I’ll teach you.” Dean took Castiel’s hands and placed one on his shoulder, and entangled his fingers in the other. “You’ve got to know this stuff, you know.” Dean shook his head as Castiel forced himself to look down at his feet. He focused on his breathing as Dean slowly slide his hand onto Castiel’s waist and to the small of his back. “Now, I’ll lead and you follow what I do.”

Castiel couldn’t keep up with his feet as Dean began to swing with the rhythm. He knew that it was nothing complicated, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the hand on his back, and the fingers laced in his own. 

“I find it hard to believe that you never learned this at the military balls and shit,” Dean scoffed as he slowed down and gently guided Castiel in a waltz across the floor.

“They didn’t exactly have those when I was around,” Castiel mumbled as he watched his feet, trying desperately to keep up with Dean’s. 

“Still. You must’ve had a pretty girl at home when you left that taught you all of this,” Dean’s tone softened into something that Castiel couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“I uh…no,” Castiel resigned himself to saying and cleared his throat. “No I didn’t.”

“Their loss,” Dean shrugged. “You’re a real catch, Cas.” Dean said gently.

At first, he thought that he had been imagining it. But as he finally looked up to meet Dean’s eyes, he could see how close the boxer had slowly brought him to himself. They were mere inches apart, swaying slowly to the music.

Dean smiled that perfect smile at him, his eyes locked on Castiel’s. He could feel Dean’s warm breath on his face as they drew closer and closer, their lips parting slowly. The desire. The longing. The hand climbing on Castiel’s back, bringing him nearer. 

Dean dropped his hand and braced his own softly against Castiel’s neck, sliding it up to his cheek. Castiel felt his own hand respond automatically by pressing itself onto Dean’s shoulder blade.  
Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat as Dean ran his thumb across Castiel’s jawline. Castiel let his eyes flutter shut as Dean slide his hand the back of his neck tenderly, drawing him to himself.

It felt like a dream. It couldn’t be real. Castiel’s heart was pounding against his chest.

Dean’s lips were practically brushing on the doctor’s when the phone rang, stopping them both dead in their tracks. Dean stared deep into Castiel’s eyes, a sorrow and tenderness washing over them as he dropped his hands from Castiel’s body.

“I should get that,” Dean sighed and Castiel let go quickly and brushed off his shirt, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes again.

“Of course, of course.” Castiel cleared his throat as Dean sauntered to the phone.

Plopping down on the couch, Castiel buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to get his heart rate normalized again.

“Michael Sword,” Dean answered gruffly, folding his arm across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sammy?” Dean’s voice instantly softened, and Castiel couldn’t help but look up at the man. Dean was now standing completely attentively, gripping the phone in both hands, as if holding on for dear life. “It’s good to hear from you, man.”

Castiel stood up quietly, pulling his coat from the rack and smoothing it in his hands.

“It’s Sam.” Castiel could hear the man on the other line say faintly. “Listen, Dean. I know you have a fight coming up in California, and I was wondering if you could get me two tickets. My girlfriend Jessica loves to watch the boxing matches, and I figured this would get me serious boyfriend points.” Castiel tried his best to block out the conversation as he slide his coat onto his shoulders.

“Of course, Sammy! I can do that no problem. And hey, I can get you both front row seats and backstage passes, too! You can show her around, meet me and the fighters. It’ll be a good time.” Dean seemed absolutely ecstatic, and Cas couldn’t help the small smile on his lips.

“Dean.” Sam sighed. “I—let’s just stick with the regular seats, okay?”

Dean shrank where he stood. “But Sammy, it’s no big deal, really—”

“I don’t want her to meet you,” Sam blurted and Castiel could practically hear Dean’s heart breaking. “I’m just not ready for that. I don’t know if I ever will be.” 

Dean paused, and Castiel contemplated putting a comforting hand on his back. “At least let me give you front row.” Dean’s voice had lost all conviction.

“Fine.” Sam said gruffly. “You know where to send the tickets. Thanks for doing this for me.”

“Anything, Sammy. You know that.” Dean said softly.

“Good luck with your fights. Bye, Dean.” Castiel heard the line click off, but Dean stayed rooted to the phone.

“I should head home,” Castiel mumbled and made his way to the door.

Dean quickly cleared his throat and hung up the phone on the receiver. “Sorry about that, Cas.” Dean said, trying to build up his bravado again. “You can stay if you’d like. We’ve got a whole bottle to finish off,” He held up the half-empty bottle of whiskey and laughed nervously. “Besides, it’s past dark outside and what kind of host would I be if I made you walk all the way across the lot home,”

Castiel nodded his head, and locked eyes with Dean, a look of understanding on his otherwise placid face.

“I’ll grab some blankets and pillows from my bed. It’s no trouble,” Dean insisted, rushing off to his room.

Castiel could practically hear the call of ‘Please don’t leave me alone, not tonight’ echoing through his head.

When Dean returned, armfuls of blankets and pillows in tow, Castiel slid off his jacket again, hanging it up neatly. Dean made quick work of creating a bed from the large couch, patting it down neatly. Almost military-grade neatly.

Castiel sat down on the couch and filled both of their glasses to the brim again. 

“So,” Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly. “What made you settle on the name Michael Sword—”

“Sam’s my brother,” Dean interrupted him, sitting down hard on the couch and staring into his glass. “We don’t, uh, we don’t talk much anymore. He’s off at college now. Stanford, actually. Kid’s too smart for his own good,” Dean chuckled and took a long drink, presumably to stop the tears that were welling in his eyes from falling.

“Dean, you don’t have to—”

“It’s okay,” Dean shook his head. “I want to.” Dean smiled solemnly at Castiel, then let his gaze turn back to the floor. “I practically raised the kid when we were growing up. Me dad, he worked odd hunting jobs across the country. All sorts of game,” Dean’s breath seemed to hitch in his throat. He shook his head and continued. “Anyway, Sammy was always the smart one. He got a nice scholarship and went off to become a big-ticket lawyer. I couldn’t be prouder.” 

Castiel honestly couldn’t detect even a hint of bitterness in Dean’s last statement.

“I always knew he was going to be something great. Me? Hell, this was the only thing I’d ever be cut out for.” Dean scoffed and took another drink.

“For what it’s worth, I think that you’d make an excellent mechanic.” Castiel piped up, and Dean smiled a warm smile despite himself, but quickly shook it off again.

“I had an uncle that was a mechanic. Good ole’ Bobby Singer,” Another solemn smile crossed Dean’s lips. “We don’t talk much these days either.”

Castiel sat in patient silence, hanging on every word that Dean said.

“Me and my dad—well, we had a falling out.” Dean shrunk in his seat as he continued to speak. “I haven’t talked to Bobby or Sam much since then.”

“Whatever happened back then, Dean, I’m sure it isn’t your fault. And the past is the past,” Castiel said gently. “If family isn’t willing to stick with you through thick and thin, they aren’t family after all.”  
“Thanks, Cas.” Dean all but whispered. The room fell silent again as the tears finally boiled over and started to roll quietly down Dean’s face.

“I don’t talk to my family, either.” Castiel offered. “They didn’t agree with my enlistment, or my life choices in general.” He admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t follow the path that I believed to be the right one. It doesn’t make me undeserving of their respect.”

Dean nodded slowly.

“You know,” Castiel cleared his throat again. “When I was a child, I had a large family—all lawyers, or lawyers to be. But me? I was always the child patching up the scrapes and cuts of the neighborhood kids when they fell of their bikes.”

“You telling me,” Dean sniffled, desperately trying to wipe the tears off his face. “You never fell off your bike?” 

“Oh I did. Plenty of times. But you see, nothing will ever beat how hurt I got in the ‘Great Battle against Metatron’, as we called it.” Castiel sat back in his seat, folding his hands neatly on his lap.  
“’Great Battle against Metatron?’” Dean asked, visually relieved for the distraction.

“He was the neighborhood bully,” Castiel said plainly. “But you see, I wasn’t alone in the fight. Or at least, not as alone as I thought I was.”

Castiel spent the rest of the night filling Dean in on his self-proclaimed ‘boring’ childhood, until they both fell asleep, Dean’s head nuzzled on Castiel’s shoulder.


End file.
